


Yeild To Me

by Appleskin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Horn Stimulation, M/M, Pale Kink, Pale Porn, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Power Play, Shoosh-Papping, Submission Reflex, sober!Gamzee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Appleskin/pseuds/Appleskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s being kinky, you realize. The bastard. He’s totally going for edge play and he didn't even ask you, that asshole, he just started at you with his fangs and his claws, reminding you of how achingly soft and vulnerable you are against this nutjob highblood powerhouse. You’re pissed off about that, you’re gonna tell him off. You’re gonna… god, you’re so vulnerable.<br/>You’re so safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yeild To Me

Your name is Karkat Vantass and you are floating, you’re _dying_ , you’re splintering the fuck apart because you have to be, nothing else would make sense. Your body is drifting away from itself at a molecular level. You are mist. You are smoke. You cannot possibly still be solid, you just can’t, it isn't a thing that could be happening. You’re too relaxed. Everything in you is gentle calm and sweet peace and you’re limp with soft, pale bliss, and there isn't enough left of you to stay solid, so you’re melting. Or evaporating. Or both.

It would be scary, falling apart like this, you think. You’d be terrified by the sheer strangeness of it, except Gamzee is there. He has you wrapped up safe in his strong, cool arms, one hand in your hair, teasing at the bases of your tiny, stunted horns with just the very tips of his claws and it makes tingles light up all the way down your spine. His other hand is up your sweater, palm pressed flat against your pump biscuit, rubbing tiny, soothing circles into the skin and every other down stroke he extends his little frond and rubs the pad of it against your top grub scar on that side. His face is nuzzled up close to yours and he’s pressing tiny little kisses, soft as a flutterbug, to your gaze flaps and the tip of your sniffnode and your chin and cheeks and forehead. His purr is a soft, high thrum.

Gamzee is holding you and touching you and purring so sweetly for you and you are falling the fuck apart in his arms and you are completely ok with that.

Your crazy Juggalo disaster presses one last kiss to your chin before his breath ghosts across your throat, followed by his lips in a half dozen minuscule, achingly tender little flutterbug kisses that have you sighing and tilting your head back into the hand still working wonders on your horns. You don’t realize you've just bared your throat to him until he opens his mouth and you feel his fangs, just the very tips, resting oh so softly around your adams apple where he could bite straight through and you couldn’t do anything to stop him. You think maybe that shivery little keen came from you, but you honestly aren't sure you’re capable of making sound at the moment.

Gamzee’s purr is interrupted by a quiet little laugh and his fangs disappear from your neck and his lips are back, gentle and slow up the column of your throat and the curve of your jaw to dance over the corner of your mouth before he seals your lips together in a kiss so soft you wouldn't even feel it if you weren't to hyper aware of his touch. His kisses you again. Again. Slowly with more pressure until his tongue dips into your mouth to flick at the points of your useless, nubby teeth and he keeps your mouths together and the two of you share breath for a moment, just breathe into each other like air isn't even a thing that you need, like you could survive off his pity alone and fuck, fuck but you think maybe you could, in this moment.

He pulls away and you chirrup and he laughs and starts purring again, nuzzles the side of your face with his own. His hand leaves your horns and traces down your side to join the other up your shirt, this one against the tender, vulnerable flesh of your thorax. He dips his fronds into the grooves between your thoracic struts and then traces the tip of his claws from your chest all the way down to the tops of your jeans, right across where it would be so easy for him to gut you and the thought of how powerless you are to him in this moment makes you shiver.

He’s being  _kinky_ , you realize. The absolute _bastard_. He’s totally going for edgeplay and he didn't even ask you, that asshole, he just started at you with his fangs and his claws, reminding you of how achingly soft and vulnerable you are against this nutjob highblood powerhouse. You’re pissed off about that, you’re gonna tell him off. You’re gonna. You're gonna… god, you’re so vulnerable.

You’re so safe.

His fangs are back, this time at your face, and he nips your cheek centimeters beneath your eye and then your eyes are rolling back. He could hurt you, he could seriously hurt you and instead he’s holding you like spun melted sand, cradling you in arms that could crack all of your bones with a squeeze. Those long, sharp, beautiful fangs are nibbling the curve of your sponge clot when they could be tearing the damn thing off. His claws are moving in gentle, slow little circles around your stomach and he could rend you, he could, he could, he could.

You don’t realize you've started trembling until he starts to talk

“Easy, best friend” he croons “Easy now, there now. Just relax, Karbro. Just let me up and tend to you.” His fangs at your throat again, followed by a kiss.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers against your skin and there’s something wicked in his voice “Can you feel how weak you are against me? How motherfucking small and fragile you are in my arms, my pale love? Can you feel how powerless you are?”

You whine and he kisses your lips again

“Don’t you fret none, my Diamond. I have you, Karkat. My little, weak, fragile Karkat. I have you, hush now. Let yourself up an’ yield to me. That’s it. Shoosh.”

He’s right, he’s right. You’re so weak. You’re so weak and he’s so strong and you never let him take care of you, you never let him but you should, he’s so much stronger than you, so much more powerful–

“ _Shoosh_ ” he says again, slow and breathy as he nuzzles your hair. His claw tips trace your grub scars and you whimper. “Shoooosh, now, that’s it. Motherfucking submit to me, let yourself be up and cared for. Little thing like you couldn’t up and stop me anyhow, if I got my mind to make you, and you know it. Let it happen, Karbro. Let it go.”

You do, you let go and if you thought you were floating you’re wrong, you’re drowning, you’re drowning and you can’t stop it and (you realize, suddenly, what he’s trying to do. He wants to trigger your submission reflex, to make you completely limp and pacified, he wants you powerless and that’s, you can’t, it’s too–)

“shoosh,  _shooooosh_ , palemate, I have you.  _Let go_.”   
  
His hand closes around your neck and he doesn't squeeze, he would never ( _but he could-_ )  
  
You have no fucking clue what your name is and that hand around your neck is cool and strong and soft and you go under with the waves.

**Author's Note:**

> Consider checking out my writing blog http://thisisallthehattersfault.tumblr.com/


End file.
